


Ignorance is Bliss

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Ex Sex, Filming, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not speaking to Zach hasn't been an issue until filming starts up again.  Angst ahoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ignorance is Bliss

Zach has Starbucks this morning. Chris remembers the first time he'd seen him, someone calling out 'double soy latte for Sylar' at the coffee shop and Chris thinking to himself that the name sounded vaguely familiar, turning to catch Zach's retreating figure without recognition. And then, at the party twenty minutes later, Zach turning around with the Starbucks cup in hand with a grin to introduce himself and Chris still not recognizing him, but knowing almost immediately that he was hooked.

" _Now. We've gotta do it now, Spock._"

" _There is not enough time._ "

" _There's still time—if we can just boost the engines again we can make it to Thebes before the Klingons even know what—_ "

" _Jim._ " Kirk looks at him. " _There is not enough time._ "

Kirk swallows. " _There has to be. We're going to make time._"

" _Captain, the odds of—_ "

" _Never tell me the odds_." Kirk breathes deep, looks out at the stars, tries not to giggle.

J.J. calls cut and they disperse almost at once. And it's not just Zach with his now-cold Starbucks peeling off an ear as he goes, it's everyone. Everyone's gotten famouser or found better makeshift families on other movie sets, and it's hard for Chris not to take it personally, not when the cast had meshed so well before and he'd been so sure that he was making real friends instead of temporary ones born out of convenience.

He figures it's time for a Starbucks run.

*

They lock eyes because that means there's acting in progress.

" _I don't think being on the planet has messed with . . . has . . ._ "

" _Captain?_ "

" _Oh, I don't feel so—_ "

Spock catches him. " _It is clear that something in the pollen is affecting the crew . . ._ " Chris is able to pretend that Spock is the one keeping him upright with strong hands, looking into his eyes steadily. He's able to interpret him as someone who happens to resemble Zach, which is useful . . .

Spock's hand has ended up in his somehow, and there's a lingering of their fingertips that feels significant. Chris wonders if Zach does it on purpose.

Chris can't help saying, " _You're being awfully forward for the first date, Mr. Spock . . ._ "

He's surprised when no one calls cut, figures it'll make good blooper material. Is gleeful at the widening of Zach's eyes.

" _I . . ._ " Zach can't remember his line.

" _Mm?_ "

" _Sickbay_ ," Spock blurts. "Oh shit, I mean—"

"Cut! _I am taking you to sickbay immediately._ And don't forget to give him a look like you think he's inane."

"No problem. Should I just—?"

"Just take it from that line. Thanks, Zach."

"Kay." Zach sighs into Spock. " _I'm taking you to—_ gah."

Resets. " _I am taking you to sickbay aaand there's nothing you can do about it, goddammit—_ "

Resets. " _I am taking to you to—_ motherfucking shitting fuck shit Sarah Palin. Okay."

Resets. " _I am—_ "

It's somewhere in the midst of this that Chris realizes he hates Zach, now. He hates his face and his voice and his cologne. _Hates_ the sound of his laugh. Starts to love that Zach's so obviously freaking out about this line but it's simultaneously pissing him off to the point of even further speechlessness.

And after he finally gets it right and _that's a wrap_ he walks right past Chris with his eyes straight ahead like he's the one who's the more pissed off or supposed to be felt sorry for.

Nobody says a word and Chris feels like he's suffocating.

*

It's amazing how many people swarm around on the set and how utterly alone Chris feels by comparison.

Zach isn't around, for once, finished with his scenes and locked away in make up for the next eternity.

At dinner, it's John who finally says, "So. It's gotta be tough working with Zach."

And Chris feels affronted, relieved, cared about, and sad, all in a row. And it's not like he can vent about it properly, either, not with so many people around that would ensure it got back to Zach.

"Yeah. Whatever. He's the one who isn't talking to me, so. You know, whatever."

John looks concerned and that's the sad part, because the two of them used to be tell-everything-to friends but then Chris had had Zach and John had always had a family and other BFF's stashed here and there.

"I dunno, Chris," Karl chimes in, slow and careful about it. "Not that it's any of my business, but in my experience it never hurts to be the first one to propose a truce. Makes things a little less awkward while still making you look like the bigger person. Just saying."

Zoe's nodding, but Chris is mistrustful of her—it's not that people had exactly taken sides, it's just that Chris is _sure_ she's always secretly been on Zach's side.

"Yeah," John continues, turned coaxing. "You guys should really talk about it—whether it sucks or not, it's gotta happen eventually."

"You really should," Zoe adds, more reproachful in tone than John, and Chris wants to suggest she stop caring so much about poor poor Zach.

And maybe they are right, but the thing is that Zach's left him just as speechless.

*

Of course they park in the same row. Of _course_ they walk at the same pace into the same entrance.

Chris sighs when Zach tries to out-walk him, beats him to the door in just enough time for it to _almost_ shut again before Chris reaches it. And that pisses Chris off enough to cut Zach off at the _next_ big heavy studio door and slip in ahead of him triumphantly.

He can hear Zach sigh through his teeth before he pushes Chris physically out of his way and Chris stumbles, heart racing at the audacity and the contact and the torrent of rage it inspires.

All he can do this stand there an awkward distance from the wall and watch Zach at the refreshments table, watch his determined shoulders.

Sometimes Chris wonders if they would've dated in the first place if he hadn't instigated it. If he hadn't, what, cajoled Zach into it? He'd wanted for so long, and he'd tried for so long and how could he not have noticed that Zach just went along with it passively—how could he have been so fucking blinded by his own exaggerated feelings for Zach? Why did he have to make everything so fucking grandiose? Zach could have at least pointed it out at some point instead of letting it drag on for so long. He didn't have to let Chris go on thinking they were a perfect fucking couple without saying anything until he'd dumped him out of the blue with this unrecognizable, stricken expression on his face.

And that's the kind of shit that speeds through the congested highway of his brain any time Zach's in the same room, and sometimes Chris gets pissed and over it and other times it hurts like a mother.

It's hard to believe he's only been on set for five minutes, makes a frustrated sound at the clock on the wall like it's at fault.

*

" _It's just . . ._ " Kirk fiddles with his ineffective communicator on the floor of their cell. Spock's still searching tirelessly for a flaw in the solid stone walls surrounding them. " _We should be friends._ "

Spock stops in his tracks to arch an eyebrow. " _We are no longer enemies,_ " he points out.

Kirk shakes his head. " _No, I know. It's just that the other Spock, the other . . . you. Him and the other me were like brothers. More than brothers. When I mind-melded with the other Spock, I could feel it—they had this, bond . . ._"

" _Captain?_ "

Kirk studies the floor. " _I dunno. Sometimes I think I feel overly familiar with you because of it, and . . . Spock, what are you . . . ?_ "

Spock's close, now, peering at him close with the tint of emotion in his voice unchecked: " _Captain, do you—_ "

Static from Kirk's communicator. " _Cap'n! The shields are down—we've gotta hurry!_ "

They look at each other and Kirk grins. " _Beam us up, Scotty._ "

*

Chris isn't sure how it happened, but he finds himself leaning against the same wall that Zach is at the party, feels his chest get tight and uncomfortable but is thoroughly unwilling to be the first one to talk, especially considering that Zach had said through actions that he didn't want to hear the sound of Chris's voice ever again. At least, that was how Chris was interpreting it and nobody would ever convince him that it was irrational or childish, even if it was.

After fifteen actual minutes of actual silence, Zach says, "Nice new place Zoe's got," all neutral and shit.

"Oh, so, you're talking to me now? Well, I'm fucking honored, Zach. Thanks for deigning to notice my existence. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm pretty fucking sure I need a refill . . ." He leaves. He leaves with his face hot with anger and his hands shaking with the misery welling up like bile in his throat.

Zach catches him by the arm halfway down the moodlit hallway. "Wait."

"How? _How_ is that the first thing you say to me? Fucking _let go_."

Zach drags him into an empty guestroom, shuts the door and flicks on the light and it seems to make reality hit in full force. It's not a movie set and they're not all costumed up for protection—there's nothing to hide behind in the crazed normal light. Zach's hair and eyebrows make him look ridiculous; makes him look like he did the first time Chris kissed him.

"I." And Chris is going to die from it if he doesn't just give in and show it's affected him, no matter that he's kept it so carefully secret for so long: "I told you how I felt and that's when you stopped feeling anything. _Fuck_ you, Zach. Jesus."

Chris can't believe the way Zach's looking at him. "I care about you. I _told_ you I—"

"Yeah, you sure fucking did, Zach—you told me you cared about me _when_ you were breaking up with me. Like that makes it fucking okay. Like you can say 'Oh, I just feel like I'm wasting your time' all nonchalantly and dump me and follow up with a declaration of doing it because you 'care about me' like that's the reason you . . . couldn't care more? I don't—just—what the fuck, Zach?

"I do. I do care about you," Zach says.

"You haven't spoken _one word_ to me for a _year_! For a fucking—."

"Chris. Chris-I-miss-you-I—""

This deathly soundless roar in his ear, this blank blinding light pulsing behind his eyes—

There's a beat of silence where Zach looks at him in disbelief, touches his jaw where Chris must've hit him. And the shock in Chris's bloodstream modulates into a terrible red high.

Zach lunges, gets a grip on Chris's wrist, twists his arm and twists Chris until he stumbles against a never used mirror-doored boudoir. Chris blocks Zach's next strike, impressed with himself for picking up a thing or two from so many choreographed fights . . . and gets Zach's fist in his gut a second later. Gasps and trips him underhandedly but Zach uses it for momentum, somehow, gets Chris with his face smashed against the stupid piece of furniture again with a precarious wobble, winds Chris's arms tight behind his back like it's a drug bust and exhales over the shell of Chris's ear—and the note of Zach's voice in it gets Chris from panicked to pissed. He struggles but Zach only squeezes like a vice, like he's determined to break at least one of Chris's fingers, presses hard against him.

Chris chokes a laugh. "What's the plan, Zach? We just chill out here 'til one or both of us dies of old age and refuse to talk to each other the whole fucking time?"

Zach's silent.

Chris struggles again to no avail. "Fucking _let go_ , Zach!"

Zach does it, pushes Chris in a parting shot before backing up. "There! Is that what you wanted? You fucking started it, you fucking psycho . . ."

But Chris's fucking psychosis is surging up again, getting mixed with the line of Zach's body and his ruddy cheeks and eyes gone girly-wide at odds with it all.

"Well, Chris?" He's shouting. " _What_?"

Chris gives an almighty shove, pushes and deflects Zach's attempts to hit him until he gets Zach to trip onto the bed, reorganizes him roughly until he's got Zach's hands secured above his head so Chris can… what?

Zach looks at him and it triggers something—Chris's hands locking around Zach's throat for a minute before they fly off of him as if burned. Chris gasps at himself, studies his hands like they're not his own. Looks down at Zach.

Zach's panting, sweating, bruising at his jaw. There's a shift in the air between them like the upbeat of a symphony and Zach reaches for him just when Chris leans in.

Zach's all heat, hot clever mouth and flashes of searing the skin at his open collar and wrists, his fingers stroking/scraping at the nape of Chris's neck into his hair.

Zach shifts under him, hard thigh and cock and jutting hip and Chris angles down into it—Zach's hands groping down his back and Chris needs more of that too. Zach works a leg between Chris's, flexes against Chris's cock debilitatingly and reverses their positions. Chris starts to protest but Zach's got his tongue down his throat before Chris can't even remember why this is a bad idea.

He's dizzy with sensation, moans about it and squirms and Zach pins him harder into the mattress. Zach smears his lips across Chris's jaw, down his neck suckingly while leaning back to crouch over him and make quick work of Chris's fly.

Zach's hands on him, wonderful and familiar and knowing just what to do to make Chris beg. He kicks Chris's jeans the rest of the way away with some difficulty and Chris slips shoes somehow off while their mouth seek out one another again, breathily open. Zach strokes Chris faster, lighter, like the fucking cocktease that he is and Chris fills his hands with Zach's delicious biceps and thick, formally styled hair.

They have to take a break for Chris to get Zach's shirt over his head. Zach kisses him deep and reassuring and retreats to get the rest of his challengingly skintight outfit out of the way. Chris shimmies out of his shirt, beating him, sits up and takes Zach's face in his hands to kiss in that way that incorporates shoulders and heartbeat and moans like mourning.

Chris's eyes open on instinct and find Zach's locked on him mid-kiss, is peripherally aware of their lips lingering and parting and them just staring at each other for a long hot moment suspended above the urgency.

It can't last, of course, and Zach's the one to kiss Chris down into the covers again. Says into Chris's lust-slackened mouth, "God, I want you. But there isn't—"

Chris's so fucking high. "No. Yes. Table."

"Oh . . ." Zach retrieves the thing of lotion from the nightstand, arranged conscientiously to match some fake hydrangeas. He squirts a liberal amount into his hand and this regrettable floral scent fills the room almost immediately. Chris laughs and the corner of Zach's mouth tugs upward, makes Chris's heart skip stupidly.

Zach kisses Chris's neck while he works a finger into him, and it's his usual M.O. so that inspires a flickering of flashbacks: foreign hotels and Zach's couch and the back of Chris's car and that one time in the Captain's chair . . .

Chris gasps at the second finger, at Zach's mouth wandering to lick delicately at Chris's nipple. Chris arcs into all of it and Zach makes a soft affirmative sound, stretches inside Chris and bites a little to defuse it. Chris can only be there and commence dying from desire.

Zach cranes his neck to kiss Chris's face, mouth, chin. "Now?"

And since hot, physical despair is the only thing Chris can feel he nods and whispers, "Fuck. _Yes_."

Zach gets more of the lotion and lubes up with a look on his face that describes how Chris feels exactly.

Chris turns over for him, arms crossed above his head, grits his teeth when Zach enters him, not as gradual as he might but suddenly Chris wants this to happen and be done with—wants to stop recognizing Zach and get lost in bliss.

Zach doesn't work up to it, just fucks him hard deep steady and feels whatever part of Chris is in reach—teasing lovely stroke up Chris's cock and light reverent trace over his sides and shoulders.

"More," Chris says.

Zach shifts him closer, finds a different angle and clutches Chris's hips hard. It starts to feel good, and then overwhelmingly good, and then Chris is unable to get enough—whines and pushes back into Zach, needs more in every way.

Zach seems to understand, rearranges them again so he can jerk Chris's cock in time with his thrusts, bites his shoulder and groans across his skin, fucks the breath out of Chris and fucks the need away and the hatred and the heart attack feeling in his chest whenever Zach won't look at him—

Zach comes hot-hard-his with a violent shudder, falters but jerks Chris's cock better with a personalized little grunt that vibrates through Chris and undoes him.

"Oh . . ." Zach breathes, strokes him 'til he's spent. "Oh, Chris . . ."

And Chris knows that reality's bound to hit at any moment, cleans himself and escapes as soon as possible on shaky legs and sore and leaving Zach behind on the bed looking wrecked.

*

" _Discontinuing mine and Lt Uhura's relationship was a perfectly logical decision._ "

" _Heh. I'm sure she sees it that way._ "

" _On the contrary, Captain, she appreciates the logic in it. There is no purpose to prolonging a romantic relationship when one or both parties no longer harbor romantic feelings for one another._ "

Kirk rolls his eyes. " _You know, you should think about a second career writing greeting cards or something._ "

Spock frowns. " _I am not sure I understand your implication . . ._ "

" _Never mind. Well, here's hoping it doesn't undermine your ability to function at your job._ "

" _To be honest, Captain, I am somewhat offended that you believe it might._ "

" _Well, I certainly don't doubt your professionalism, Mr. Spock. Now, let's—_ "

" _No, you're right._ " It's not in the script. Spock's fingertips brushing over his before he seizes Kirk's arm to talk: " _I'm emotionally compromised, and the only way for me to function around it is to ignore it._ "

"Cut!" J.J. yells. "As much as I appreciate the adlibbing, Zach, it's tricky with your character, and I know there's a note that says something to that effect, but—"

"Sorry, J.J. Got carried away."

"It's cool—okay, why don't you guys give it another go?"

Zach's looking at him, really looking. Chris can't not say, "Okay."

*


End file.
